


Dyslexic Heart

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alive Laura Milkovich, Blowjobs, Bottom!Mickey, Canon Compliant, DYFS splits up the gallaghers, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Frank loves scamming the system, If I had to put a time frame on it I'd say this is set end of season 2, Iggy and Colin go with him, Laura needs to stay in the country, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mickey hates that guy, Mickey is not in the closet, Mickey is still an angry little shit, Stepbrothers, Top!Ian, enter frank gallagher, frank takes ian into the marriage, he doesnt have to be, jerking off, laura Milkovich is amazing, mentions of Ian/Kash, mentions of past physical abuse, mickey speaks ukranian, terry is gone, terry takes off instead of laura, these two are idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: What if instead of Mickey's mom taking off, it was Terry?After Terry divorces Laura, she needs a way to stay in the country. Enter Frank Gallagher with the scheme of the century. When Frank brings Ian with him into their scam of a marriage, Mandy couldn't be more thrilled. Mickey on the other hand, isn't so keen on the idea. He knows Ian from the neighborhood and from the store he regularly steals from, but he doesn't want him living in his house.So what happens when two gay Southside teenagers end up in the same house together and have to pretend to be 'brothers'? A lot of sexual tension, meddling mother's and quite possibly something neither of them were expecting.This is the stepbrother's Canon Compliant AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 23
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> So I think this fic will be fun. Neither of the boys are underage. If I had to put a time frame on this fic I'd say end of season 2/Early season 3. Ian is 16 and Mickey is 18. Terry fucked off and took Iggy and Colin with him and I made Laura a badass mom but the best thing in Mickey's life. 
> 
> I know this can be a delicate subject for some people; they don't want to read any fics where the boys are 'related' but they barely know each other in this fic and they didn't grow up together in the house. They were literally thrown into it. 
> 
> I hope you read it and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Comments are LOVE.

This was fucking  _ bullshit. _

Mickey adjusted the tie on his neck and frowned deeply at his reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. There is no way this is could  actually be happening. There is no way in  _ hell _ that his mother is marry Frank fucking Gallagher. 

He isn't even sure how this fucking happened. He just knows he came home one afternoon after spending most of the day harassing and stealing shit from that towel head down at the Kash N Grab and that freckled ginger fuck. Mickey somehow just knew that towel head was fucking that kid. God Damn pedophile prick. He was all for anyone getting their rocks off wherever they could but that alien looking motherfucker was just a _ kid _ . But anyway, he had come home and in his fucking living room, wearing his dad’s clothes, was Frank fucking Gallagher. It wasn’t the fact that Frank was wearing Terry’s clothes; it wasn’t like he was coming back to claim them, that Mickey knew for sure. It was just the fact that somehow, like Frank did with everyone else in this neighborhood, he had wormed his way now into his fucking house. 

His mother had sat him and Mandy down later; after Frank passed out from the 6 pack and bottle of jack that was  _ Mickey’s _ , and explained that once their darling father had filed for divorce, she only had 6 months to find a suitable reason to stay in the country. She couldn’t get a good enough job deeming her essential to stay in this shithole of a city, so marriage would have to do. Frank’s wife Monica had finally succeeded in doing herself in for good this time; Mickey had heard through the  Canaryville grapevine (Mandy) that she had slit her wrists during Thanksgiving last year but this time it was a good  old-fashioned overdose that finally made her meet her maker. 

So the plan was for Frank to marry his mother and in return she got to stay in the country and be with her kids; well Mickey and Mandy at least, Colin and Iggy had fucked off with their dad when he took off 2 years ago; and they would collect their assistance checks and Frank’s disability and in return Frank got a house he couldn’t get kicked out of and home cooked meals and possibly a couple of step kids would  _ ‘appreciate him more than his own ungrateful spawn’. _ That’s a direct quote. 

And if that just doesn’t make you want to run out in the street screaming, the best thing about this entire shit show of a plan was that in order to make it look legit when immigration came knocking at their door, Frank had decided to drag one of his own kids to come and live with them. And of course, it was none other than alien looking, ginger fuck, pedophile fucker, Ian Gallagher. Like Mickey needed that kind of bullshit in his life on top of all the other bullshit he had to deal with. 

Mandy was ecstatic. Come to find out her and Ian were the  _ bestest _ of buds. Isn't that just fucking special. So now his mother is marrying the town  drunk; even if it honestly is a step up from the town homophobic Nazi drug addict. And Ian Gallagher is going to be living in the bedroom directly across from him, dreaming about fucking towel heads and leaving his ginger fucking hairs in the sink and parading around his house in boxers and...

Christ. 

Mickey knows he’s gay. Mandy knows he’s gay. His mother knows he’s gay. His father knew too, and even though they don't talk about it, ever, they all know that was the real reason Terry took off. He couldn’t have a queer for a son, and his mother almost died, literally, trying to protect him. And now with him gone, it's not like he’s going to be going to some parade and hanging out in  Boystown on a Friday night, but he  ain’t so scared to like what he likes and having people know it. He’s fucked guys. It  don’t make him a bitch. But the problem, the biggest problem with this whole sham of a marriage honestly really  isn't the fact that his mother was marrying Frank. Sometimes you  gotta do what you  gotta do to make it in this world. And her and Frank know that better than anyone. It isn't that. 

It’s the fact that the only reason he goes and steals so much shit at that hole in the wall little store is because the ginger fuck behind the counter is...well...

Fuck. 

He’s hot. 

With the pale skin and freckles. Fucking alien looking. 

And he’s heard through the neighborhood (Mandy) that Ian is packing. And if Mickey is anything, he’s a size queen. It’s a strange feeling to have, because the truth is, he  actually fucking hates Ian. He’s obsessed with the fucking Army; always wearing these camouflage pants and tight tan shirts and looking all sweaty when he gets to work (not that Mickey was waiting for him across the street to get there or nothing) and reading fucking geometry books as the fucking pedophile asks him about what’s he studying and Mickey overhears from the back of the store as he stuffs pringles into his large oversized winter coat. Talking about how the army is nothing but theorems and  bohm trajectories and a bunch of shit Mickey will never understand. Ian always has this smirk on his face like he thinks he’s better than Mickey; like he forgets where he fucking grew up and who _ his own _ fucking father is. 

That same father who is now marrying his poor mother. Not that she can’t take care of herself. In all honesty, Frank should be scared. Terry Milkovich was a scary mother fucker but Laura Petrenko was no force to be reckoned with. He wasn’t all that worried about this marriage. Mickey could just ignore Frank like he always did and Frank would ignore him like he did even his own actual children, but  _ why  _ did it have to be Ian? Why couldn’t he have brought the little black one with him? Or the psycho one like strings up all those squirrels? Or the other red headed one? Why the one person Mickey hated the most in that whole fucking litter of Gallagher’s? Even more than Lip who he knew his sister was banging. She’s not slick. She never was. 

But the world likes to torture him and Mickey is now literally going to be living in hell with the devil right across the hall taunting him with long pale fingers and god damn calculus equations. 

This is fucking  _ bullshit. _

*****

“Hey Ma.” Mickey grabs a beer from the fridge and she frowns at him but she doesn’t say anything about how its only 2pm in the afternoon and he  didn't go to school today. Or how he hasn’t gone to school this entire year. When he got out of juvie this last time, he had just decided not to go back. His father was obviously okay with it;  it's not like Colin and Iggy made it past Freshman year. And his Ma was so afraid of Terry she would never make a peep about how he was raising them. Unless it was to Mickey. She had tried with him. Somehow, she knew his brothers were lost causes and Terry really didn’t seem to care what Mandy did and she actually liked school, but Mickey just figured there was nothing really left for him. He was going to end up running deals with his dad for the rest of his life or at least until he ended up dead or in prison, so school just seemed pointless. 

But his mother, every chance she got, tried to get him to go back. She practically pleaded with him. Telling him how smart he was, how talented. How Mickey’s brain didn’t work like his father’s or brother’s. Or even Mandy’s. But Terry was so in his head with the insults and the literal beating it into himself, he ignored her. But then one day, Terry was just gone. Mickey doesn’t know all the legality of it; the divorce and all that shit; but one day his dad was gone and the house seemed brighter and bigger and the world seemed like it had stopped spinning so fast. His mother began to smile again. And then came Frank.

He gets it. He really does. You do what you  gotta do. And Frank is a piece of shit but he  ain’t Terry. And there are no bruises on his Mom’s face anymore and Mickey hasn’t had a broken bone in almost 7 months and to him that means more than some passed out Southside drunk on his couch drinking his beer. He can always get more beer. He  can't get new ribs or a new mom. 

“You ever going to go back to school?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. 

“Probably not, Ma.”

“You are so smart. You could do anything. And you’re drawing, Mikhailo. Beautiful. Just like you.” She pats his face and he looks into blue eyes that mirror his. “Don’t let him stay in your head. “

“I’ll get my GED. If I went back  now I’d still be a freshman. That ain’t cool.”

She gives him a warm smile. ”It’s a start, I suppose.”

“Mmm.” Mickey sips his beer and peers into the pot on the stove. “Where’s Mandy?”

“With Ian somewhere.”

“Probably scouring the Southside for dick.”

“You could go with them.”

Mickey snorts. “Not likely.”

“Do not be ashamed of who you are.”

“I’m not. Liking what I like don’t make me a bitch, Ma.”

“No, it does not.” She stirs the pot and peers at him with soft eyes. “Ian is quiet handsome.”

Mickey just raises an eyebrow at her. “He’s a fucking ginger.”

“A handsome ginger.”

“What you getting at?”

His mother just shrugs and wipes her hands on her apron. “He looks at you. When you aren’t looking. His eyes follow you.”

“Probably cause he’s scared I’m  gonna punch him in his stupid face.”

“He  isn't scared of you. He looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out.”

“ Ain’t nothing to figure out.”

Laura comes around the counter, taking his beer out of his hand and takes a long sip. She hands it back to him and smiles. “Be kind to him. This is hard for him too. Talk to him.”

Mickey doesn’t answer her. He just watches her putz around the kitchen finishing dinner.  _ Talk to him _ . Right. Cause that’s exactly what Mickey does. Talks.

He hears the front door open and the loud laughter of his sister and Ian waft into the house and he’s down the hall and in his room before they even see him. 

******

Mickey makes it 2 whole days without having to see Ian. He always hears him; thin walls and shit; but Ian actually goes to school and then he has that Army shit after school and sometimes, most nights actually, he’s stays out till almost midnight. He hears him lock the front door and do his thing in the bathroom and then Mickey hears his bedroom door click closed not long after. 

His mother’s words play over in his head. Mandy doesn’t expect him to talk to Ian. She probably prefers if he doesn’t. Ian is hers. It’s the one good thing she got out of this deal; her very own live in best friend; and she deserves that. But that don’t mean he’s  gotta talk to him. No matter what his Ma thinks is the  _ kind _ __ thing to do. 

“Hey Mick.”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall forward to hit the cabinet with a loud thud. What in the actual fuck? He doesn’t answer Ian, just pops the cap off his beer with the edge of the chipped kitchen counter and drinks half of it with one gulp, not even bothering to turn around to even look at the guy. 

“Are you hungry? I thought Laura was gonna make dinner, but she’s not here and I’m starving from ROTC training and-”

“Okay, first off,” Mickey spins around, practically spitting at him through clenched teeth. Ian takes a full step back when he does that and Mickey almost smirks. Good. This fucker should be scared. “My Ma ain’t here to make you fucking grilled cheese and ask about your fucking day. This isn't the Brady Bunch. Second of all don’t be fucking worrying about if I’m eating or not and I definitely do not care the slightest shit about your ROTC training, got it? This is my fucking house. Stay the fuck away from me and we won't have a problem. Got it?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. This isn't my dream to live in the fucking Milkovich house, okay? But I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Oh, cause the Gallagher house is so much better than here?”

“Yeah, it was. At least we talked to each other. At least we sat down for meals and knew what the fuck was going on each other’s lives. It's called having a family.” Ian spits back. Mickey steps forward and pushes the neck of his beer bottle hard against Ian’s chest. It doesn’t affect him as much as Mickey was hoping. God Damn army training. 

“You don’t know shit about my family. You think because you and Mandy braid each other’s hair and gossip about boys you know anything about what we’ve been through? My Ma did this so we wouldn't end up in the fucking system.”

“I know.” Ian practically whispers. “That’s how I ended up here. They took us away from Fiona when Frank decided to pull this shit with your mom. Lip’s in some group home and they placed Debbie, Carl and Liam in foster homes. I got lucky because Frank took me here.”

Mickey almost feels bad. For like a second. Okay so maybe it was more like 25 seconds, but he quickly buried that odd feeling deep into his empty stomach. 

“I don’t give a fuck why you’re here. But you are and I can’t do nothin’ about it, so just stay out of my fucking way. We don’t need to be friends. We ain’t gonna be friends. As soon as you get that through your ginger dome, the better all this will be.”

“Got it.” Ian nods and pushes the bottle down slowly and away from his chest. Their eyes lock for a few seconds and Ian doesn’t look so much scared as he does...interested. Like he’s trying to figure Mickey out.

_ He isn't scared of you. He looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. _

The heat from his gaze makes the back of his neck sweat, but Mickey brushes past him; making sure to bump Ian’s shoulder with his a little harder than necessary; but it doesn’t even make Ian stumble at all. 

Fucking ROTC  _ bullshit _ .

*****

Their shit is  _ everywhere _ . 

Boxes on top of boxes on top of suitcases and clothes thrown on the couch so Mickey can’t even sit down. 

Just bullshit after bullshit after  _ bullshit _ . 

Frank and his mother are talking quietly in the kitchen; hurried hush voices which is strange to Mickey because when it was Terry with his mother in the kitchen all the entire neighborhood could hear was screaming. He can hear Ian and Mandy giggling from what is now considered Ian’s bedroom which used to be long to Iggy. Mickey may or may not have freaked the fuck out earlier when he saw Ian taking down his Megadeth poster. Mandy literally had to push him out of the room yelling at him through clenched teeth to stop being such an asshole. 

It’s the most normal he’s felt in weeks. 

He has nothing against Gallagher in particular. Other than the fact that he’s letting a pedophile diddle him on the regular, there’s nothing really  _ wrong  _ with him. If Terry were still here, he’d have had to beat the shit out of him on principle alone because he’s a fag, but Terry isn't here and Mickey himself is a fag which is oddly accepted by his mother and sister. 

_ “Man, woman. Whoever makes  _ _ your _ _ heart skip, my beautiful boy.  _

His mother always understood him in a way no one ever could. She protected him the most out of all her kids; probably because she knew at a young age, way before Mickey even realized, that he was a big old mo. She was protecting him from Terry. He was sensitive when he was younger; helping the injured animals his brothers injured. Terry saw the softness in him and exploited it. He beat toughness into him. It was a rite of passage in the Milkovich house. You  weren't a real Milkovich until you got your knuckle tattoos and when he came home at 14, freshly inked and infected, his mother sat him down on the lid of the toilet and tended to them, whispering in Ukranian:

мій милий хлопчику .  не дозволяйте йому вкрасти ваше світло .

_ My sweet boy. Do not let him steal your light. _

He had learned Ukranian at a young age. But he never understood how gentle his mother could be in the hard shadow of his father. He never could wrap his head around how he and Mandy had turned out to actually have a heart underneath all the dirt and drugs and Jack Daniels. Iggy and Colin  weren't so lucky. No matter how much his mother tried to love them and show them love instead of disaster, they lived in Terry’s shadow and when the time  came, they chose him over their mother. 

They never talk about them. Any of them. And maybe that’s why Mickey lost his shit when he saw Ian taking down all his brother’s stuff. Because it’s like they are ghosts. Almost as though they never existed. He may have not had the best relationship with his brothers but it was far better than the one he had with his father. And if Mickey was more sentimental, he may have missed them. Maybe he does. 

Sometimes. 

But whether he does or doesn’t isn't the point. The point is that Ian fucking Gallagher is living in his brother’s room now and putting all his army shit up on the walls and a chin up bar in the doorway and shoving his large boxers and worn t-shirts in the drawers where Iggy’s clothes used to be. But Ian doesn’t understand that. Or maybe he does. Because an hour later he’s leaning his tall ginger ass against Mickey’s door frame and smoking a cigarette. He holds it weird;  its something Mickey noticed and plans on making fun of him about but he’s too exhausted to do it right now because he helped his mother unpack all of Frank’s shit, which honestly wasn’t much, because Frank decided to pass out on the couch on top the rest of his shit. He’s annoyed and pissed off and just not in the fucking mood. 

“I put all your brother’s things in a box. It’s in the hall. Your mom told me to put it in the attic but I figured maybe you’d want to go through it. See if there was anything you wanted.”

Mickey rolls his head across the pillow to look at him. It’s weird, but somehow in the moment Ian seems smaller. He’s holding himself differently. Like he’s curled in on himself. And for the first time Mickey remembers, Ian isn't with his family either. He doesn’t know where his family is. They’ve scattered; just like Mickey’s; all over the damn place. They just stare at each other; saying things in silence. 

“Yeah, thanks.”

Before Ian retreats back to his newly acquired room, he tosses the Megadeth poster onto Mickey’s bed. 

Mickey returns to staring at the ceiling, a smirk on his lips. 

****

“Shove over.”

Ian looks up at him with those eyes; the same eyes he’s been giving Mickey for weeks now.  It's like he’s begging with those eyes for Mickey to just talk to him. He mostly grunts when he sees the redhead. Sometimes they share cigarettes. Sometimes Mickey will pass Ian a beer during dinner. But they don’t talk. Ian talks to Mandy constantly. He can hear them in each other’s rooms at 11pm giggling and talking in hushed voices. He’s happy Mandy has someone through all this. All this bullshit and chaos. With Frank taking up most of the space in the house with his ‘damn the man’ bullshit. But he doesn't hit them. He doesn’t yell. He drinks more than Terry ever did, but he doesn’t belittle his mother and for the first time in Mickey’s almost 18 years he can breathe in his own house without the fear of getting a  barrel of a gun shoved into his temple because his exhale was too loud. 

It was the most peaceful the house has ever been. 

And Mickey has never been so wound up. 

Because Ian kept getting bigger and stronger and somehow his hair was getting redder with every passing day and when he  _ looks  _ at him with those eyes...he’s finding it harder and harder to control the half chub in his pants. His mother has noticed. She keeps giving this small smile to her son whenever Ian is near. He returns the smile with a hard glare and she just chuckles and goes about her business. It’s fucked up. Ian’s supposed to be what, his  _ stepbrother  _ now? And what? Isn't that illegal or some shit?

And Ian isn't interested in his hood rat ass. He’s giving it to that towel head and who the fuck knows who else. Southside might not be queer friendly, but there are plenty of them just north of  Canaryville in Boystown and Ian and Mandy have giggled about their adventures there at 2am when they stumble home and they think they are being quiet but they really aren't. Ian can get it from anyone. He doesn’t need Mickey. 

But fuck is Mickey wishes he did. 

Ian moves over on the cushions, letting Mickey plop down next to him and also lets him steal the remote from his hand. 

“Let me show you how it's done.” Mickey mumbles around the end of his cigarette and he can see Ian’s eyes on him as he does a double move and eliminates the other fighter in the game. 

“Wish you would.” Ian whispers. Mickey shoots him a look, but Ian’s already looked away back at the screen. 

****

“We’re  gonna be fucking late. Ian  isn't even up yet.”

“The fuck  do you care? If he doesn’t want to go to school, he  don’t have to.” Mickey shoves eggs into his mouth and his mother pours him juice giving him a small pat on his shoulder. 

“Just because you’ve decided to never get your fucking diploma, doesn’t mean the rest of us have given up. I don’t plan to stay in this shit hole the rest of my life. Neither does Ian.” Mandy growls at him, grabbing bacon off the plate in the middle of the table. 

“Oh, and sleeping in one morning is going to ruin all that for him? Get off his dick, bitch.”

His mother frowns at him. “Be nice to your sister.”

Mickey just rolls his eyes and watches as his sister taps her black nails on the table near his plate. “Bitch, I’m  gonna cut your fingers off if you don’t stop.”

“Mickey!” His mother yells. 

“Bitch is a term of  endearment , Ma.”

His mother only responds by kissing her daughter on the side of her head and shuffling to the couch to tussle a  passed-out Frank with her foot. Mickey watches with a smirk on his face as she shoves him a few times with her shoe before grabbing a half full bottle of beer on the coffee table and pouring it over his head. He slashes up, arms flailing. 

“Immigration comes today. Shower. Look presentable. Or I take your  disability check and drink all your liquor. This is part of the deal. Do not cross me.”

Frank just grumbles as he slowly gets up from the couch and nods at Mickey and Mandy before staggering to the bathroom. 

“Real winner you got there, Ma.”

“Better than your father ever was.  Tenfold .”

“Damn straight.” Mandy whispers. She checks the time on the stove again and sighs heavily. “Fuck it. I’m leaving. I don’t care what Ian does.”

“If you  weren't out  all-night dancing with fags, maybe he’d be able to get up.” Mickey mumbles. 

“Jealous?” Mandy sneers in his face before bouncing toward the front door. It slams on her exit and Mickey mumbles a few choice names under his breath before feeling his mother slap his head. 

“Okay, okay. Got it. Don’t call your sister names.  _ Jesus _ .”

His mother only smiles and sips her coffee by the kitchen counter. 

“Try to get Ian up. You always could rile your brothers enough to get them out of bed.”

“That’s because I shoved guns in their faces. I don’t want Ian to wet the bed.” Mickey smirks but gets up and heads toward Ian’s room. He knocks twice. “Yo, Firecrotch. Time for school or some shit.”

There is no answer from inside but Mickey can hear him breathing. Heavily. Is this kid fucking  exercising before school? 

“Hey, Army. Up and at  em ’ soldier.” Mickey pushes the door open and time seems to stand still. Because there on the bed is Ian, in full naked glory, with his long fingers wrapped around his even longer and  _ thicker _ , cock. He doesn’t bother to stop jerking but he does look at Mickey as he enters. His chest is flushed and there is sweat on his forehead and he’s lifting his hips with each slide of his hand up and down his dick and Mickey swears, no he knows, Ian whispers his name as soon as their eyes meet. 

Mickey has never in his entire life gotten an erection so quickly. It was 0 to 60 in one second flat and he can't tear his eyes away from the aggressive way Ian is jerking himself off. Ian’s other hand is squeezing his balls and Mickey can tell how large those mother fuckers are too and a wave of want washes over him that he’s never felt. He’d fall to his knees right there if Ian gave him the slightest notion that he wanted him to. 

Mickey knows he should probably shut the door. Frank could stumble out of the bathroom at any time or his mother could come up the hallway but time if frozen and so is Mickey just watching as Ian never loses his rhythm over his cock and Mickey licks his lips subconsciously as his eyes travel up Ian’s taught stomach, stopping to gaze a few seconds at his perk nipples and the curve of his clavicle and up to wide green eyes. He can hear the slap of Ian’s palm against his cock and the soft huffs of air coming from his lungs and the fast thump of his own heart in his ears. He’s drowning as he watches Ian pleasure himself and Mickey couldn’t move if a fucking tornado blew through there. 

Ian’s jerks start to go faster and Mickey just keeps his eyes on Ian’s and without even thinking or even knowing he’s doing  it, he cups his own cock through his boxers and that’s when Ian  cums ; shooting white spurts all over the trail of red hair on his stomach and down over his fingers. His body goes rigid with pleasure and Ian lets out a low growl as he releases and Mickey has to grab onto the doorjamb to keep his knees from buckling when his own orgasm hits him like a pile of bricks. He keeps his hand on his cock through the whole embarrassing moment and when his eyes flutter open (when the fuck  did he  close his eyes?) Ian is just staring at him with a blissed out look on his face. He moans a little, rubbing his cum into his skin and gives Mickey the smallest of smiles. 

“I’ll be ready in a few.” 

Mickey just gapes at him and slams the door so fast it hits him in the ass. He stands there a few minutes, trying to remember how breathing is a good thing and when he hears Ian start to rustle around behind the door, Mickey hightails it to his own room, shoving the door closed and sinking down onto the floor against it. 

What the  _ fuck  _ was that?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked. 
> 
> Flirting ensues.
> 
> Decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy guys! Welcome back! Sorry this chapter took so long. I have some personal things going on. I hope you enjoy this. This is a pretty fluffy sexy chapter, but you know me. I love angst so things are coming that might come between our boys. <3
> 
> Comments are LOVE.

"Is Mickey gay?”

Mandy stops mid pop of her gum and stares at him with pointed eyes. 

“First of all, what? And  second of all , duh.”

Ian chuckles and takes a long drag of his cigarette. They are sitting on the front porch watching Laura plant  new flowers in the front yard. Mandy says now that Terry is gone, she plans to make this house an actual home. Immigration had come a few days ago and the little sham they are playing seems to be working because they got another  30 days before they come back for their final home visit. Ian is hoping once that  happens, he can get the fuck out of there and  possibly back to Fiona or Lip. He talks to them every day, assuring them that honestly, he  doesn’t have it that bad. Laura cooks them breakfast and dinner every day and  he’s still in ROTC training and yes,  he’s going to school. Lip found it amusing that not only is he living with his best friend and the girl his brother is fucking, but  he’s also sleeping in the room right across from Mickey fucking Milkovich. 

Lip can rib him all he wants about Mickey’s reputation, but Ian is seeing a side of Mickey he doubts most people in the neighborhood have ever seen. The side that loves his mother. He catches Mickey staying especially close to his mother most nights. Either helping her in the kitchen or talking softly with her on the couch while they watch  nighttime sitcoms. He sees Mickey smile and laugh. He sees Mickey wash dishes and fold towels. He sees a lot of Mickey he doubts anyone has seen. 

He sees Mickey come out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist; his skin still wet and pink from the spray of the shower head. He sees Mickey wrap his plump lips around the neck of a beer bottle so pornographically it takes everything in Ian not to moan at the site. Ian sees Mickey now; not the Mickey who would come in and steal anything he could stuff into his coat with dirt on his face and even more dirt under his fingernails. Not the Mickey who put a kid in the hospital just last year because his father told him to make an example of him because this kid's father had fucked up a deal for him.  It's like that Mickey was just a mirage and this Mickey; the one who has laugh lines around his eyes and smells like Irish Spring and fresh cut grass; has somehow appeared out of thin air and into Ian’s orbit. 

And he  can't stop thinking about the other morning. Where Mickey’s deep blue eyes watched Ian jerk himself off and bite his lip and cum right in his pants as Ian unloaded all over himself. It made Ian wonder. Because if this had been the  Mickey, he thought he knew, he would have beat the living shit out of Ian for the way he  pretty much jerked off  _ for  _ Mickey. But this new Mickey;  maybe the Mickey he really was all along;  didn’t . He watched. He liked it. And Ian  can't stop  _ thinking  _ about it. 

“Why?” Mandy’s voice knocks Ian back to reality and he just shrugs as he stubs out his cigarette on the porch step. 

“Don’t bullshit me. And don’t fuck my brother.”

Ian frowns at her. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck him.”

“You didn’t need to. I know that look.” Mandy sighs and leans back against the railing. “Listen,  yeah . Mickey’s gay.  It's something  he’s just coming to terms with. I know, Ma knows. He had to hide it for a long fucking time because of our dad. Not that he  didn’t know. Mickey took a lot of beatings because of it. So,  it's not like  he’s gonna be marching in some damn parade or putting a rainbow bumper sticker on the station wagon. So, you can't like...do what you do with him.”

“Do...what I do? The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Ian, I see you. We go the bars. The clubs. You hook up with a new guy every time we are there. And  it's fine.  You’re 17\. You should be fucking as many guys as you can and want. Hell, I do too. But Mickey  isn't all out and proud like most guys you hook up with. And we have a good thing going here. I don’t think immigration would like it too much if they found out two  _ stepbrothers  _ were banging.”

Ian just nods slightly. “I was  just curious , Mands. I  don’t need a lecture. I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Okay.” She pauses, standing up. “You want pizza bagels?”

Ian just nods and watches her go inside.  He’s quiet for a long time before he hears Laura from down by the flowerbeds. 

“She’s protective of her brother.”

Ian looks over at her and gives her a small smile. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Maybe too much.” She stands wiping dirt onto her apron. “Mickey is free. She should let him be free.  However, and with whomever he chooses.”

Ian just stares as her as she walks slowly to him on the  stoop . “You’re a good boy. This world has not hardened you yet, even though  it’s tried. You are free too. It looks good on you, just like my boy.”

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” Ian mumbles. His mother always used to say that too him, quoting some old 60’s song like it was a motto she lived her life by. And she did. Till the end. 

“ Mmm .” Laura goes up the steps, pressing her hand firmly to Ian’s shoulder. “Then what do you have to lose?”

The screen door closes behind him and it leaves him even more confused than he already was. 

****

Ian  can’t sleep. He  can't stop thinking about what Mandy said and what her mother said. He laid in bed till 2am before he his bladder protested and he wanders into the kitchen after for a beer. If he  wasn’t going to  sleep, he might as well drink. Fuck it. 

“Oh. Hey.” Mickey’s voice slices through the silence and Ian looks to find Mickey standing in the entrance of the kitchen in just boxer shorts. Jesus fuck. Ian  doesn’t think he has a type.  He’s been with all types of men. Tall, short. Young, old.  Blonde , dark haired.  He's not really  picky . But Mickey? If Ian had a type it would be Mickey. Black hair, those fucking eyes and the tattoos and the softness of his middle but strong pecs and arms and thick thighs. Jesus  _ Christ _ . 

“Hey.” Ian whispers. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Ian just shakes his head and watches as Mickey grabs his own beer from the fridge. He watches his fingers twist the cap off and his lips wrap around the top of it and his Adam’s apple as he swallows and  Ian has a flash of his cock down Mickey’s throat and he twitches in his sweatpants and he needs to get the fuck out of this kitchen. Mickey raises  an eyebrow at him as Ian’s heavy breathing fills the small kitchen. 

“You okay there, Red?”

“Yup. Fine.” Ian chokes out. 

Mickey licks his bottom lip and leans against the counter. “Quite a show you put on the other morning.”

“Wasn't a show. You opened my door. Wasn’t  gonna not finish just because you were there.” Ian watches as he thumbs his bottom lip and when Mickey moves closer to  him, he  has to remember to breathe. 

“That so? You jerk off a lot?”

“You don’t?”

“Sure. But usually with something up my ass.”

Ian squeaks,  literally squeaks out of his throat. Is Mickey... _ flirting _ ?

“That what you’re into?” Ian chokes out, trying not to show Mickey how  flustered he is. 

“Yeah, among other things.”

“What other things?” Ian whispers. 

Mickey takes a long gulp of his beer and Ian eyes the wetness on Mickey’s full lips. He  unconsciously licks his own lips as Mickey’s eyes rake over his body from his toes up to his eyes. 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Mickey turns on the last word and saunters,  yeah , he fucking sways his fucking hips, back down the hallway. 

“I would. I would like to know!” Ian whispers loudly but all he hears is Mickey’s door click closed. 

*****

Ian  doesn’t know what to make of Mickey. He  doesn’t know if  he’s just fucking with him because since that night in the kitchen, because ever since then  Mickey’s been...doing  _ things _ . Like taking Ian’s cigarette out of his mouth just to take a long drag and push it back between his open gaped lips again.  He’s been leaving his bedroom door open during the day and at night so that Ian can see him as he lies on his bed in just his boxers while he reads or smokes in silence. He always gives Ian this one eyebrow  raise whenever he catches him looking at him and its driving Ian  _ insane _ . 

And now, now, as Ian walks off the field from ROTC, Mickey is leaning against the bleachers, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and flipping a switch blade in and out as he stares at Ian. 

“Hey Red. Being all you can be?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Collecting a debt.”

“Oh, and here I thought maybe you were stalking me.” Ian brushes past him, trying to remain cool.  It’s not working. He can feel his hands shaking. 

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

Ian can feel Mickey right behind him as he takes long steps toward the parking lot. They walk in silence and when they get near large dumpsters on the edge of the lot, Ian stops dead in his tracks and Mickey plows into the back of him. 

“The fuck, Gallagher?”

Ian turns and straightens his shoulders and looks down into Mickey’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s not cute anymore.”

Mickey huffs out a laugh. “Cute? And what exactly you think I’m doin’?”

“I don’t know. But you’re obviously fucking with me and I don’t know why.” Ian  searches Mickey’s face for some sign of explanation. He  doesn’t find one. 

“I  ain’t doin’ shit.”

“Really? So that shit in the kitchen the other night? What was that?”

“ Gettin ’ a drink.”

“Oh, so you  weren't flirting?” Ian crosses his arms and watches as Mickey narrows his eyes. 

“Flirtin? Thought we were just havin’ a conversation.”

“About jerking off?”

Mickey shrugs and reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your end game is here, but we  gotta keep this sham up just until the final interview with immigration. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You leavin?” Mickey asks quickly. 

“Yeah, you honestly thought I was  gonna stay in your house forever?”

“What about Mandy? She’s excited as shit to have you there.”

“She’ll be fine. I got my own family, you know? And you can have yours back without me being in the way.”

Mickey’s quiet for a few minutes, kicking at rocks with the tip of his boot. He smokes his cigarette, keeping his eyes downward. “Never said you were in the way.”

And then it hits Ian. Mickey’s lonely.  Yeah ,  he’s free like his mother said; freer than he had ever been; but even when his Dad was terrorizing him, all of them really, the house was full. He had his brother’s there. Now all Mickey has is Mandy who Ian monopolizes most of the time and his mother who is trying to make this  scam of a marriage work just so she can stay with the children she has left. Mickey has no real friends. He  doesn’t go to school. And since his Dad  left, he’s not running around stealing and selling anymore, so he really has nothing. 

“Do you wanna like, hang out?”

Mickey looks up at him and gives him a disgusted face. “Fuckin hang out? The fuck you think this is?”

“ I think this is me asking you if you  wanna go hang out. Have some beers. Smoke some weed. Just hang out.” Ian gives him a small  smirk and watches as the frown slowly fades from Mickey’s face. He sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders and looks around the parking lot. Anywhere but Ian’s face. 

“Fine. What the fuck ever.”

Ian smiles and turns and walks toward the  Southside streets. 

****

Mickey’s drunk. 

So is Ian, but Mickey’s 9 sheets to the fucking wind. He keeps trying to do chin ups on the beams of the dugouts but he  can’t because  he’s _ drunk,  _ and he keeps losing his grip and falling and then laughing. They both might be a little high too and Ian  hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Not even the times  he’s fucked someone at the club. This is a different feeling of good. There is such an innocence to all this; drinking and smoking in the dugouts and reminiscing about people from the neighborhood;  it's something Ian’s never really had.  He’s had it with Lip but never with a real friend. Mandy mostly just wants to cruise for boys, which is fine with Ian. But to have a friend, a male friend, who understands what  it's like to grow up the way he did; it fills something inside Ian that he  didn’t know was missing. 

Mickey falls, for like the tenth time and now they are both laughing so hard they can barely catch their breath and Mickey is leaning up against Ian’s side as Ian wraps his arm around Mickey’s waist and they keep laughing and then Mickey is jabbing him in the ribs and his face is so close and he smells like cheap beer and weed and cigarette smoke and that soft hint of Irish Spring and Ian feels drunk on so much more than just the alcohol. 

He feels free. 

Ian somehow backs Mickey up against the chain link fence and he’s gripping it; his fingers white knuckling through the grooves in the fencing and he’s looking down into Mickey’s smile which is all teeth and his eyebrows are softened and he keeps giving little echoes of laughter and then Mickey eyes meet his and suddenly the silence is deafening. Mickey’s tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip and Ian follows it with his eyes and their pelvises are pressed together and Mickey is warmer than Ian thought he would be. Mickey’s own hands are digging into the fencing behind him and Ian can hear Mickey breathing heavier than normal. 

“Mickey...” Ian whispers, his breathe ghosting over Mickey’s lips. He  shouldn’t be doing this. He can blame it on the weed and beers but he knows deep down it  isn't just that.  He’s curious.  He’s curious how Mickey’s lips taste. How they feel because they look soft and wet, all the time, and Ian needs to know. He  has to know if Mickey would let him kiss him right now. If he would open his mouth to Ian and let his tongue slip in beside his own. If Mickey would let him touch him; run his fingertips down his neck and over his chest that Ian knows is muscled and soft all at the same time just from looking at him. Ian wants to know the sounds Mickey would make if he cupped him through his jeans right now to see what  Mickey’s been hiding from him but  flaunting this whole time. 

Mickey leans his head back against the fence, exposing his neck and his eyes are hooded but Ian can still see how blue they are in the faint light from the moon.  It’s so dark but Ian  doesn’t need light because he can feel the heat coming off Mickey’s body and the small huffs of air escaping his lips and Ian feels like  he’s vibrating.  He’s never felt this sort of magnetism. This uncontrollable want that is  prickling on his skin. Mickey is such a mystery to him but he knows there is something here. Mickey  doesn’t seem like the kind of person who  doesn’t do things just to do them. And  he’s been doing  _ something  _ with Ian. 

Ian whispers his name again and it barely makes it past his lips before Mickey pushes his head forward and inhales his name through his mouth. His lips feel just like Ian thought they would; fucking  _ perfect _ . Ian moans into his mouth and releases the fence from around his fingers and grips his cold hands around Mickey’s hot cheeks.  So, fucking warm. Soft. Mickey kisses like  he’s drowning, and  maybe he is, because Ian has never been kissed like this before.  There’s no tearing of clothing like most of the guys Ian has kissed; hurried fucks in alleys and bathrooms of gay clubs.  There’s just lips and tongues and fingertips digging into cheeks and the back of necks. Mickey’s hands are gentle but firm at the base of Ian’s skull and Ian would be fine if this is all he does for the rest of his life. 

When Ian finally  has to pull back to take a gulp of air back into his lungs, Mickey chases after him. Ian grips him around his jaw and rubs his thumb over his swollen lips. 

“I wasn’t imagining it right? You were...flirting?”

“Don’t know about all that. Not sure I even know how to do all that shit.” Mickey says softly. Ian smirks and presses the lightest of kisses on his lips. 

“Trust me. You do.”

Mickey pushes him back playfully and Ian just presses his body hard against his. Fuck, he wants him. 

“What now?”

Mickey shrugs. “Mandy would kill us.”

“She told me not to fuck you.”

“See?”

“Do you care?”

“That she’d be pissed. Sort of. I guess.” Mickey sighs heavily. “Fucking a stranger is fine, but fucking you would be complicated. Living in the house and shit.”

“Afraid you might actually like me?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Cocky motherfucker.”

“You don’t know even know the half of it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I do, tough guy. Can feel it against my fucking thigh.”

Ian reaches down, rubbing his palm over the outside of Mickey’s thigh over his jeans. “I really like these thighs. I  wanna fuck my cock between them.”

“Jesus Christ.” Mickey’s eyes roll back into his head as his head falls back against the fence. Ian presses his mouth hotly against the exposed skin on his neck. A low  whine escapes Mickey’s throat and Ian can feel it vibrate against his lips.  He’s going to leave a mark on his skin, but Ian  doesn’t care and Mickey  doesn’t seem to be protesting either. Ian wants to stay here forever. He wants to feel Mickey hard and heavy against him. It  doesn’t even matter that they  aren't naked. Ian just likes the way Mickey  _ feels _ . 

“ So, what now?” Ian asks again  huskily against Mickey’s neck. 

“Gotta be smart about it.”

“So, no fucking in the shower then? Pressing you up against the tiles and shoving up into you from behind?” Ian mumbles against Mickey’s skin. He hears his breath hitch. “Or maybe I’d lift you up and have you wrap those thighs around me while I fuck up into you.”

Mickey growls and moves his head, his mouth trying to find Ian’s in the darkness. Their tongues touch before their lips and Ian grabs Mickey’s ass  roughly through his jeans and he can feel Mickey’s cock hard and heavy rutting against his own thigh. He feels like a teenager for  maybe the first time ever. This is the way  it's supposed to be.  It’s not supposed to be with older men who look at him like  he’s some kind of cheap whore. No, this is what Ian deserves. What he wants. He wants Mickey. He wants his sharp tongue in his mouth and the words he spews in his ear. He wants Mickey’s hands all over his body; the same hands he uses to help his mother plant flowers and cook dinner with. He wants his body; firm and soft against his own; the same body he parades around the house just to tease him with. 

“Gallagher.” Mickey warns. 

“Okay, okay.” Ian murmurs against his mouth. “No shower  sex . Got it.”

“Don't want my mom to lose this, man. We  gotta be careful.”

“She  won't . I promise. No one will know. If we  gotta come here to do this, we will. I won't do anything to fuck things up for your mom.”

Mickey nods and presses a lingering kiss to Ian’s mouth.  It’s his way of saying he believes him. Ian knows that. Mickey  isn't one for words. All Ian can do is prove it to him. Ian could never do anything to take Laura away from her kids. They would just need to be discreet, at least until immigration concludes their investigation. They can do that. But with the way Mickey’s hands were hard and demanding on Ian’s hips and the way he keeps rolling his hips against Ian’s in such a pornographic way, Ian wonders just how much of that promise  he’s going to be able to keep. 

****

Ian is pulling off his jeans later that night when there is a soft knock on his bedroom door. He smiles because he knows who it is. 

He opens the door just a crack and gives Mickey a small  smirk . “Living on the edge I see.”

Mickey flashes him a toothy smile. “Always do.”

“Mickey...” Ian whispers.

“Your brother’s here  bangin ’ my sister. Frank is passed out on the couch and my Ma’s asleep. Now you  gonna open the fuckin’ door or do I gotta break it down?”

“That eager huh?” Ian opens the door wider and Mickey steps inside, closing the door gently behind him. He leans against it and rakes his eyes down Ian’s bare torso. The button on his jeans is undone and Mickey bites his lower lip at the sight. Ian runs his finger over the button and steps closer to Mickey. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Mickey’s eyes find their way back up to Ian’s face. “Like what?” He teases in  a low voice . He raises an eyebrow at him and gives him a flirty look that goes right to Ian’s dick. He pushes his chest against Mickey’s and the door creaks softly. 

“Like you want my cock.”

“Maybe I do.” 

“Yeah, you do.” Ian presses his mouth against Mickey’s and there is no hesitation as their tongues slide together. They both moan and Mickey’s hands ghost over Ian’s sides, over his ribs and Ian shivers at the delicate touches. Fuck,  he’s never felt this way before.  He’s never wanted someone so much. The teasing alone could make him blow right in his jeans. He feels euphoric. 

Mickey’s fingers slide the zipper down on Ian’s jeans so painfully slow, Ian bites down hard on Mickey’s lower lip.  He’s almost afraid  he’s gone too far but when Mickey groans low in his throat and shoves Ian’s jeans down over his thin hips.  It’s Ian’s turn to groan and when his cock; red,  angry and leaking, pops out over the top of his jeans and boxers as they pool around his knees, it takes 3 seconds before Mickey falls to his knees on the dirty carpet. He  can't believe this is happening. He  can't believe Mickey Milkovich is looking up at him with dark blue eyes and mouth hanging wide open, waiting to take his cock in his waiting mouth. 

Mickey  doesn’t start blowing Ian. No, he waits, tongue resting on his bottom lip, waiting for Ian to feed it to him. Ian feels his balls tighten against his body at the sight and realization that Mickey fucking Milkovich; bad boy Southside  thug ; is a needy submissive bottom. And Ian nearly  cums right there all over his face. 

Ian rubs the tip of his cock over Mickey’s lips; leaving a trail of wetness over them. Mickey licks it up; eyes never leaving Ian’s and hums low in his throat. Ian is going to die. There is no way he is making it out of this alive. Mickey opens his mouth wider and gives Ian a determined look and Ian slowly slides his cock into his mouth. His lips wrap around him and his tongue is wet and soft on the underside of Ian’s dick. Mickey takes him into his mouth as far as he can go and when Ian hits the back of his throat, Mickey  _ swallows _ , and Ian’s knees buckle and he  has to slam his hand against the door  in order to keep from falling. 

Ian’s dick pops out of from Mickey’s mouth and he glares up at him. 

“The fuck, Gallagher? Trying to get the whole house in here.”

“Shut up.” Ian grabs his cock at the base and pushes it back against Mickey’s mouth. He opens greedily and his mouth engulfs Ian’s cock again with tighter lips and heat. Ian can feel Mickey’s breathes through his nose as it hits his pubes and he takes his hand off the door and grips the back of Mickey’s head with deep digs of his fingertips. “Just like that. Fuck,  _ Mickey _ .”

Mickey hums approvingly at the praise and direction, and Ian keeps his fingers tugging on Mickey’s hair on the nape of his neck as he slides his mouth and tongue up and down Ian’s length. It feels like heaven. Like Christmas morning when  you’re a kid and everything is still innocent and exciting. It feels like the first time Ian ever came; new and confusing. A fondness; a light gentle  flutter in his chest; as he looks down at Mickey who is moaning and grabbing at the back of Ian’s thighs and sucking him off like Ian’s cock is the only thing in the  world he needs right now. 

He could fall for this boy. And not just because his cock is in his mouth. Ian could get anyone to suck his dick. This is something different. Mickey is different. And if Ian  isn't careful, he could end up falling in love with Mickey. 

Ian tries to warn Mickey of his impending orgasm by tapping the back of his skull, but Mickey just takes him deeper and when his fingers wrap around Ian’s ball sack, the  zing and tingle at the base of his spine causes him to push his hips forward. His cock goes deep in Mickey’s throat and he gags around Ian’s cock and the feeling of his throat contracting and the sounds coming from Mickey’s mouth cause Ian to flood his cum into Mickey. Ian’s whole body shakes through his orgasm, and Mickey swallows every drop before pulling off his cock and  heaving deep breathes of air back into his lungs. 

Ian  doesn’t move as Mickey comes back to himself. He  doesn’t know what Mickey is going to do. Ian  didn’t mean to gag him like that and the last thing he ever wants to do is do something to someone that they  don’t want.  It’s been done to him. He never wants Mickey to go through that. 

Mickey finally looks up at him; lips shiny and swollen. 

And then he smiles. 

And Ian feels like the world tilts on its axis. 

“Jesus Christ, Mick.” 

Mickey stands on wobbly legs and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Ian tucks himself back into his jeans and stares as Mickey looks around Ian’s room. What used to be his brother’s room. 

“Looks nice in here. Clean.”

“Yeah.”

There’s awkward silence for a few minutes before Ian finally decides to reach his hand out and cup the back of Mickey’s head. Mickey’s eyes find his and he looks... scared almost . 

“Mickey.” Ian whispers. He pulls him forward against him and Ian is relieved that Mickey comes willingly. “Did you like that?”

“Yeah.” Mickey chokes out, before clearing his throat. 

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

“Shut up.” Mickey rolls his eyes but Ian grips the back of his head tighter, forcing Mickey’s eyes on him. 

“I’m serious. That was fucking hot.”

Mickey leans in, pressing his lips  hesitantly to his. Ian kisses back firmly and leans his forehead against his. 

“Stay in here tonight. Let me return the favor.”

A blush falls over Mickey’s cheeks and he shakes his head. “Too late.”

Ian’s breath  hitches . “You came?”

Mickey nods and Ian groans loudly, pulling Mickey flush against him by his ass. “Jesus Christ. You’re going to kill me.”

Mickey just kisses him again and Ian wraps his arms around him, hugging him close to his body. 

“Stay?”

Mickey presses his face into Ian’s neck and lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Okay.”


End file.
